


We All Have Questions

by aimasup



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexism, Implied blood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Racism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Swearing, Violence, headcanon backstories, headcanons, i guess, implied gore, war references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimasup/pseuds/aimasup
Summary: They are not okay. Not one of them.( I'm trying to write an angst fic to see how much I can torture my favorite characters before making them happy again. Comments are much appreciated.)





	We All Have Questions

Jeremy never understood why he didn't have a dad. Why everyone thought it was weird that he didn't. Only a few of his brothers cared, and all of his classmates did, in the wrong way. His ma only talked about his dad in the best way, but didn't like the subject when pressed.

He hated that everyone at school treated him like crap just because he had something they didn't like. He hated it even more when he would be sent home with disapproval from every direction whenever he tried to set things right for himself. A few broken bones and missing teeth were well-deserved for all the things that were said.

He didn't understand why his teachers hated him. Why the words on the pages never made sense and never will. He had so much trouble deciphering letters and pronouncing simple syllables.

Still, ma didn't think he was stupid for not being able to read. It confused him. Everyone else could read, but he couldn't keep up at all. He just couldn't. That meant he was stupid. But ma always said otherwise.

Drawing wasn't a girly thing. He was great at it, but it wasn't just for girls, because he could do it and he loved it, but he's not a girl. Unless he's as weak and pathetic as everyone says. 

Liking baseball should count for something, but he was always kicked out of the league for some stupid reason like 'no fighting' or 'unprofessional attitude'. He didn't know why this kept going on with him. It hurt even more because his ma was having a hard enough time with seven of his brothers, and he didn't want to bug her.

He saw kids chatting with their dads everyday and he began to hate his own, missing or dead.

Jeremy didn't understand why he was being locked up. Why the filthy sucker who kept bugging the girls next door was set off Scot-free. He was just doing the right thing, as his ma always taught him. As every single lesson in that damn school kept telling him to do whenever bad guys were around. As the super cool heroes in the comics were doing. He didn't know why it was wrong to try and stand up for something that happened every day in plain sight.

The rest of the inmates were just shit. They were murderers and thieves and they still thought that bashing someone's head in with a ladle from the mess hall was something awful. They still rejected him. 

So what even is the right thing to do anymore? The outside rules were obeyed and suddenly, every freaking one is a saint, but him. Behind bars, no rules exist, and everyone kills and steals. He's still not good enough. Doesn't fit in. 

Everyone said that he grew up the way he did because he had no dad. No 'proper man to raise a man'. But his ma was great. She was as tough as a guy, tougher even. 

They had no right to say that. They were just all wrong. Sure he's a screwup, but he was still better than the rest of those losers. They didn't know jack about him. No one did.

\-------------------------------------

Jane didn't know why his father had a strange accent. Why he said that Jane deserved a beating for not getting back home in time, and delivered it for no reason at all on bad days. Why his mother told him that it was okay when she cried every night.

He never understood why everyone loved their fathers and said that hard-working males need appreciation. Why every poster he saw about a true American father was full of strength and smiles and bravery, with an undertone of warmth. His father wasn't hard-working. He wasn't loving. He wasn't even from this country. 

Jane didn't know what all the other children were waking up for in the morning, carrying books and bags and chatting merrily, coming back home to two smiling faces called 'parents' and smaller children called 'siblings'. He didn't know that until his mother told him what school was.

The stories started. She told him all about warriors and strong men who fought for their country and loved their kin. He didn't know why he couldn't be like them. He didn't know why his father couldn't be like them.

"Because he's not American," mother said somberly.

It all made sense now.

But she still screamed at him when he killed the non-American one day. Jane didn't know why his mother was scared. He got rid of the awful, beer-chugging man with just a shovel. He was an American hero. Why was she screaming? So he got rid of her too; she must have been some spy all along.

He didn't know why he wasn't allowed to set foot into any of the military bases. They all rejected him after looking at some piece of paper. That was it. He would prove them wrong.

Jane didn't know what year the war had ended, but he knew that he had done his country proud by killing as many of those Nazis as he could. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't stupid or unworthy. He was a service to America.

\-------------------------------------

XXXX didn't understand why mommy and daddy told them to stop playing with the pretty flames.

Their house was the bestest friend ever, but it looked even better in the orange and yellow glow.

They didn't know where mommy and daddy went. Sis and bro-bro where gone too. 

The white walls were boring. The uncles and aunties took the matches away.

XXXX didn't know why the candy was bitter. They didn't know why they would get the hurt when they didn't eat the candy that the uncles and aunties in coats gave them. The straps were uncomfy. XXXX didn't like it here.

The flames were nice friends. They helped XXXX escape the bad place and its white walls and funny smells. The screams sounded nice, coming from the uncles and aunties.

Suddenly, they were so, so, so happy. Flowers and sunshine and unicorns were everywhere. A beautiful Rainblower of their own, and something called a 'job' was given to them. They said that XXXX could do it all the time. They could play with the fire and rainbows all day if they wanted to.

They still didn't understand many things. But they didn't care.

\-------------------------------------

Dell didn't understand why it was wrong to be 'smart'. He didn't know why some of his school pals hated him for having the simple, basic understandings of Science and Maths. 

He didn't understand why his daddy would go away for days and days and almost never return. He wasn't a bad daddy, but on Dell's fifth birthday, he met him for the first time, and daddy didn't seem too happy with him...being there, for a second. Dell didn't get it at the time.

But at least he was nice after that. A right ol' sport, who taught him the best of the blueprints and machines. His old man kept some things out of his reach sometimes, and Dell knew, because he was smart enough to figure that out. But he didn't know exactly why. He was a fool to not not dwell on it.

He didn't understand the scorn he got when he moved into the city. He tried his best to get along with everyone, but not all folks were friendly as he thought. Dell tried not to gloat when he got his doctorates.

He didn't understand the calm when he was met with his granddaddy's blueprints. But he also didn't get the fuss over his replacement hand. None of them understood just how important these were. No one.

He didn't know the excitement that sparked in him as he saw red on the job. He didn't know what was it that switched on and off in him that determined how 'approachable' he was. He didn't know why that made the company see him at all.

But it was all normal. It was all just in the name of science.

\-------------------------------------

Mikhail didn't understand the injustice of it all. He didn't understand why the world just couldn't be fair.

Papa always told him to forgive and never hurt. It killed him. The men came and put him down like a bear. 

More men came and took Mikhail away from his home. The house he grew up in was never to be seen again. Mama, Yana, Bronislava and Zhanna all had to go with him. 

He didn't understand why this fighting had to happen. He heard planes and a train rushing along, over the shouted commands and insults of the men that rounded them up in the cold. He just wanted all this to stop, and hear them say that they would be sent back home.

After that, it was months and months of pain. He didn't get why it had to happen. He didn't know where his mother and sisters would be taken as he, the only male, would be sent off to work and torture. Sometimes, they would meet, but then he barely saw them after those moments.

He never understood the private lesson his Papa told him about peace and forgiveness. It wasn't happening now. None of this around him, the suffering, the crying, the starving, the men with whips, none of it was peaceful. None of it was worth forgiving. 

The month after was a blur. He remembered the horrible place burning. Prisoners escaped. Guards screamed as he pulled off their limbs. Then there was running, and snow, and more snow. Mama and his sisters and himself built a safe place to live by scratch. He didn't know what happened to the rest of the prisoners.

The world wasn't fair. The world wasn't peaceful. Even if he ever forgave it, it would never be forgotten.

\-------------------------------------

Tavish didn't understand why he had to be adopted. Why he wasn't allowed to sit in certain places, why some of the other children in the orphanage avoided him like the plague. He would be excluded from certain things. He never understood any of it.

He didn't want his talents at first. The explosion killed the first two people who cared about him. His adoptive parents were just brushed off when he was brought back to the orphanage. Then two people, who he saw were just like him, introduced themselves as his birth parents.

Tavish had so many questions. His birth parents took him in and loved him, and told him about the family traditions. The rage he felt was overwhelming. He didn't know why they let him yell at them and slam the door like a brat. He still didn't know why any of this happened to him.

He didn't know why his father had to go so fast. Tavish had practically just met him.

He didn't get all the must for jobs all of a sudden. The pressure was awful. He just wanted to play, but training spared almost no time for that, and the children outside didn't like him anyways.

Tavish didn't know why the gaping eye socket on his left was supposed to be normal. He didn't know why magic was even in existence at all. It wasn't supposed to be real. It shouldn't have taken his eye. His mum tells him that sooner or later, the other will have to go, or else he's a bad Demoman.

He didn't know why he was supposed to do this and that. Tavish downed another whiskey. That thinking could wait. Three jobs weren't enough.

\-------------------------------------

Mundy didn't understand why he wasn't super strong or super smart like all the others. He didn't know why they excluded him for it. The teachers were supposed to be better, but he ended up finishing education as a government requirement only. 

He didn't know whether his existence in this country was a mistake or not. His dad was a strict one, but he and mum always told him the best things about love and self-acceptance. He didn't usually believe them.

He didn't get the weird way logic worked. You were supposed to punch someone's teeth out as a 'howdy' on a good day in the elite cities. He thought this was weird, but he didn't get why he was weird for thinking different. The pain in his jaw every afternoon in school was often not a greeting from that day onwards.

He didn't know why the teachers and other adults fell for his lies every time. Mundy always fell down the stairs or bruised himself during football. He thought he could see them knowing, but they chose not to say anything. He didn't know why they didn't just speak up.

Mundy didn't understand why his dad took him aside to learn sniping. All he did was throw rocks at some kids instead of fight. Maybe he just had to get useful in something.

He couldn't believe his luck when he got a job. 

Mundy didn't get why his dad reacted the way he did when he told him that he put the skills to good use. The one thing he was actually good at was suddenly not good enough anymore. He was confused and enraged that the two people who supported him as he grew up suddenly didn't anymore. Sniping was a good job.

A dial tone was heard and Mundy didn't hear from his parents for a while.

\-------------------------------------

Ludwig didn't know why the other children hated him. He was just doing his job as someone that helped. He was a doctor, as his family name said. A little red was normal.

He didn't know why feeling helpless under their kicks and punches meant that they were afraid of him. His mother said so, and that he should be proud that they feared him, but he never felt feared at all. He didn't know why a little interest in something that wasn't rowdy playing made him different. 

He never understood what it was like with siblings. What it was like with other children in his home. Maybe that was for the best.

Ludwig never felt direct love from father. He was always cold and businesslike. He felt happy to have such a father, who didn't bother with emotions and all the like, but he didn't understand the throbbing in his heart whenever he hoped and failed to impress him. 

All he knew was that they shared an interest in biology and being a good upholder of the family name. He had to know what he was destined to be, and luckily he knew what he loved.

Ludwig didn't know how animals could be much more easier to be with than humans. They were simple and affectionate at best, and ruthlessly murderous at peak golden refinery. The whole thing was just so fascinating. How different organs and systems could be.

He needed to study more.

He didn't understand why his father told him to run away from his own home. The strange crowd with the pitchforks and torches were coming, and his father was acting even stranger.

Ludwig didn't know why his father tried above all else to shelter him and his mother. He didn't know why a self-respected scientist would protect anyone else and let himself die in the hands of emotion-ridden peasants. His mother let herself die too. None of it made sense.

They should've sacrificed him as the smallest. Father should've known better. He wasn't one to be full of things such as 'care' but yet there he was, a near-corpse covered with chars and stabs and slashes, barely recognizable. Ludwig hated that they didn't think of themselves.

They made him escape.They were both idiots to an act of selflessness.

But of course, Ludwig was a genius. He understood now. It was only a matter of time before anyone falls victim to primitive human instincts to protect and care.

It would only be a person's downfall in the end.

\-------------------------------------

René never understood why he wasn't supposed to be close friends with girls or chat with teachers. Why the students who cheated on tests and never got caught thought they were better than everyone else. It only meant that adults weren't observant enough to watch these pathetic, rowdy displays behind their backs.

He didn't know why speaking his mind would get him in trouble. He only knew that he was being honest. His grades were impeccable, and his behavior was praised like anything. But he was still a pathetic rat in his own home.

He didn't understand why anyone would need a mother when they had a father. Mothers were always supposed to be sweet and kind and understanding, and strong enough for the family and work. His father was always that description to a T. René just wanted his mother to die.

He didn't want the pain or the reminders of what a mistake he was. He hated the glass and the bathroom door hinges. He didn't usually understand what he did wrong, but he knew he just wanted it to stop. 

René didn't know why his father let it happen to him too. Fathers were supposed to be in charge of the house. His father was the one who brought him food when mother didn't cook, and he was the one working day and night for the money to be taken by mother to gamble.

He thought the world of his father. But he never understood father taking the beatings for him.

He didn't understand why his father was arrested. Mother deserved to die that way. The mangled body of the poor, unsuspecting wife was put on the paper and his father was the villain, and René was the child who was stuck between. He didn't understand the society's concrete way of thinking. He never did. Father had to be saved.

René didn't know how long he was on the streets before the mafia came for him. He didn't know exactly how he managed to scrape by their gracious payments by lying and cheating for them, but by the time they found out that he was guilty of their betrayal he was on his way to America. He didn't understand how anyone could be so trusting.

Father was dead. The orphan boy René had disappeared and was never found. No one cared, and the case from years ago was forgotten in a few minutes.

The masked rogue didn't understand how the world could be so blind and idiotic. Caught up in their own little clouds while happenings beyond their bushy-tailed point of views occurred everyday, right under their noses.

Well, it was only to be expected from the typical civilians.


End file.
